Game of Thrones, By a Fucking Idiot S8E6: The Iron Throne
Well, it’s over.
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Here’s the tea, here’s the real inside scoop (and no, it’s not about the Youtube drama that’s been going on this weekend, but you know, get on that), here’s everything you’ve been waiting to here: keep your voice down, make sure the curtains are drawn, because I’m going to say it.
We need to talk about Jon Snow.
And trust me, I’ve done a lot of talking about Jon Snow in the years leading up to this final season. But this week’s episode, The Last of the Starks, really gives me no choice but to address the perma-pouty elephant in the room.
Look, arguably, the Battle of Winterfell, the central point around which this week’s episode of Game of Thrones revolved, was set to be one of the most impressive episodes of action television ever made. And quite well it fucking should be: it took an alleged two straight months two film, is the length of a full fucking movie, and is pretty much what everyone, including the show, has been holding their breath for since the start of this season. The living versus the dead! Fire versus Ice! Some dragons versus, uh, some more dragons!
Episodes set on the eve of battles – whether metaphorical or literal ones – are often standouts for any show. If everyone is on the brink of losing everything, then you don’t need to bother with the careful teasing-out of all the emotional nuances you’ve been working with. People are honest, they’re usually drunk, and they have nothing left to lose – so all those big emotional denouments you’ve been waiting for? Yeah, it’s time to cram them all in.
Hey, hey, hey, have you heard of this show? It’s called Game of Thrones. It’s pretty niche, so I don’t even know why I’m writing these recaps, but I figured I would introduce it to my esteeméd blog audience to –
Yeah, okay, enough with that. You all know Game of Thrones is here, and that it’s final season started last night. In the time between this recap and that broadcast, you’ve probably seen dozens of well-written, beautifully-researched, gorgeously-analytical pieces of writing on the show and what it means for popular culture. Too much of that, some might say. So what if you wanted something different? What if you wanted to read Game of Thrones recapped by, say, a fucking idiot?
The Cutprice Guignol 